Two Became One
by Tuomas Is Our Sin
Summary: At a splendid ball, four curious, supernal children question their parents about the contents of the celebration and end up learning how their parents met each other during the second return of Count Dracula. Egil x Catherine
1. A Tale at the Revelry

**Two Become One: The Story of Egil Swenhaugen and Catherine Van Helsing**

**_A/N: _**Hello to all! A word from Rora...well, after the obnoxious two-day waiting period, we were finally allowed to put our story up! So...without any further ado, here it is!

**Summary:** At a splendid ball, four curious, supernal children question their parents about the contents of the celebration and end up learning how their parents met each other during the second return of Count Dracula. [Egil x Catherine]

* * *

Chapter One: A Tale At the Revelry

Merry laughter and jovial voices permeated the air as the celebration progressed and entertained its guests. People from all race, backgrounds, heritages, and species coincided together in this magnificent, prominent manor, home of the mighty Swenhaugen clan. Friends and families were reunited in the festive conjuncture and companions embraced one another from years of absence.

Danica Alianne Swenhaugen, firstborn of Egil Lars Swenhaugen (a potent figure in the Swenhaugen House) and Catherine Elizabeth Van Helsing, (sister to none other than the legendary Gabriel Van Helsing himself) watched the reveling crowd with a sharp eye. Her siblings, Keiran, Kasper, and Aurelia, were right beside her.

"They do this every year," Aurelia commented offhandedly, peering at the massive horde of luxuriously clothed people over her older brother Keiran's head, "and I–we don't even know the reason why!" Keiran smiled softly at his baby sister's outburst and patted her affectionately on the head.

"I'm sure Mum and Egil can tell us if we just ask," he answered assertively, earning an agreeing head nod from Aurelia.

"I've heard people mention Dracula on many of occasions," Danica added staidly, her stormy eyes grew keen and alert as she discerned the gala around them, "I reckon that's what the party's all about: The defeat of Count Dracula."

The eyes of her brothers and sister lit up with recognition and curiosity, only there was a darker luminance in Keiran's star sapphire orbs, for he loathed Dracula more than his three younger siblings combined.

"Yes…that would make perfect sense," Keiran began slowly, idly brushing a lock of onyx hair out of his face, "I once heard this date was the day he was vanquished so you could be accurate on that, Danica." A smirk crept onto his said sister's lips as she tore her calculating gaze off from the terpsichorean coterie.

"Keiran, I know I'm accurate about this," she replied thusly, her stoic attitude very much like her father's, "I've gathered all the facts, all the rumors, and analyzed the information before me."

"I think Uncle Rolf has been rubbing off on you," jested Kasper, his mouth twitching into a regaled smile. His older sister shrugged, finding nothing wrong with his remark.

"Actually, that is what Dad instructs me to execute during training, you'd be shocked in how many people act on that level of perception," mused Danica, standing up while she hastily smoothed out the faint wrinkles of her burgundy gown, "Oh, and Kasp, at least I won't be mistaken for one of Uncle Rolf's children." Her smirk widened as Kasper's countenance flushed cerise, a vivid hue spreading across cheeks and all the way to the back of his slightly pointed ears.

"That's not funny, Danica!" Kasper retorted hotly, grasping his ears as if he meant to shield them from further insight. "How was I supposed to realize Grandma Hedda was actually being serious when she threatened to drag me across the compound by my ears!"

Grandma Hedda, Egil's no-nonsense mother, was notorious for dealing out punishments consisting of ear-pulling, ear-dangling, ear-dragging, and among other painful acts. She was a true battle axe, the bane of the Elders and one of the cover leaders who governed over the Swenhaugen House. The stout-hearted woman could even wield a halberd and could slice any man as if they were construed out of pudding. Despite her rather alarming traits, the four children absolutely adored their grandmother, bear hugs and all.

"Keiran! Danica! Kasper! Aurelia!"

The voices of the said progenies' parents attracted the four youths' attention and through the exuberant, dancing bevy, they managed to find their mother and father.

"There you are!" exclaimed Catherine, opening her arms out wide for her approaching children. Aurelia embraced the huntress immediately while her older siblings hovered close, exchanging small grins with Catherine and Egil–who stood formidably behind his wife.

"Mum," started Aurelia, "We've been wondering about this revelry and we also overheard Dracula's name mentioned several times—Is his defeat the main reason for this party?" Her mother nodded sagely.

"That's right, Aurelia, This feast is dedicated to those who fought against Count Dracula and either survived…or perished." As she spoke, Catherine recalled one casualty, yet Enrique's death wasn't really guided by the hand of the licentious vampire king. As if he had sensed the sliver of dolor in her, Egil placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder, his thumb subtly caressing the nape of her neck.

"Don't fret, Dame Englen, Enrique hasn't been forgotten," he whispered into her ear so only Catherine could him. She nodded once more, focusing back onto her four semi-bemused children.

"Well, what would you all like to know first?" she asked as Egil motioned for his family to sit down in some push, opulent chairs nestled into the corners were they would not be disturbed.

"Tell us how you and Dad met!" blurted Kasper, cerulean irises glowing with avid interest. The same excitement glowed from his older brother Keiran and younger sister Aurelia. Even Danica permitted her intrigue to flicker across her visage before she became her cool, indifferent self once more.

At their antics, Catherine laughed mellifluously and a warm smile found its way on Egil's features. "All right, if that's the story you want, then that's story you'll get," Catherine replied drolly and the scions of the Swenhaugen House scouted their chairs closer towards their mother so they wouldn't miss a single word. Before she commenced the tale, Catherine flashed Egil a joyful beam and he returned the gesture with a half-grin of his own.

"About the time your father came along, I was already posing as a bride for Dracula, trying to find a way to undermine him and bring about his defeat."

Thus, the story had begun.


	2. First Fight

Chapter Two: First Fight

The wind raced through the nearly-deserted streets in gusts, sending leaves and assorted debris skittering across the cobblestones, swiping the hats and scarves of any who dared to brave the chill of Bucharest's autumn. Weathered wooden signs swayed in the wind, the chains holding them over the doors screeching as metal links ground against each other.

Egil Swenhaugen's stormy eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing slightly against the frigid wind. His bulky trench coat flapped and swayed in the breeze, but he took no notice of it. He was on a mission, and nothing would distract him from what he needed to do.

His nostrils flared slightly as his animalistic senses went to work; he caught the scent of the man he was looking for-and quite a few others as well, both male and female, mostly inhuman. His face remained a stoic mask, but a tiny glimmer of triumph flickered in his eyes. He was so close…

_Now, if there's any one place they went, it would be an inn. Where is it..?_

As he scanned the horizon again, something caught his eye-a building towards the end of the road, one that appeared to be an inn. The scent trail seemed to continue in that direction, heightening the chances that the one he sought was there, at that inn. With no change in his icy expression, he set off towards the small building at a steady, assertive lope, his hands slipping into his duster, checking his firearms holsters, making sure not a one was missing. He wasn't sure exactly how these…_negotiations_, for lack of a better term, were going to go…but nothing wrong with having a backup plan in case of emergency, at least not in his opinion.

_Thor's hammer, I really hope this doesn't end as a free-for-all, _he mused gruffly. _Those are quite messy, not to mention such a waste of time-_

His musing was cut short when he noticed a female in the window near the inn's front door, her curious gaze directed at him. She was young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, if that, but quite pretty, with brown hair that had an auburn tinge to it, and a small, slender frame. Temporarily ignoring her curiosity, Egil picked up the pace until he made it to the inn's door. He grasped the knob and yanked the door open, coming in from the blustery autumn air. The young woman-who looked to be a maid, judging by the worn, threadbare dress and apron she wore-turned to face him.

"I'm searching for Gabriel Van Helsing," Egil told her. His voice was deep, icy, and gruff, rich with a clipped Norwegian accent. "Tell him I desire an audience with him."

The girl nodded, directing him to a table. "Have a seat, sir. I shall go get him for you."

She disappeared up the stairs at the rear of the tavern, and returned a few moments later half-ushering, half-dragging a bemused Van Helsing by his wrist. "Begging your pardon for being so forward," Egil heard the girl apologize. "But the gentleman over there-" She gestured in Egil's direction. "-Wishes to have an audience with you."

Egil watched the woman curiously as she approached. Something about her aura was puzzling him-not only was it inhuman, but it was arcane as well.

_I wonder what she is…she definitely isn't human, any fool can see that-_

But, once more, his internal musings were cut off as Van Helsing approached the table, the puzzlingly inhuman young woman now lingering a respectful distance behind him. The legendary hunter's hazel eyes were locked on Egil, eyeing him in a gauging, perhaps even slightly distrustful way. The Norwegian mercenary offered a glare in return, conveying that he was in no mood for doing anything other than getting down to business.

"So," Egil drawled coolly. "Are you ready to talk, Van Helsing?"

He gave no response; he only pulled out a chair and sat, still eyeing Egil. He waited for a moment, waiting for Van Helsing to sit down all the way, before speaking once more. "I heard you are after Count Dracula, King of Vampires. Am I correct?"

"Might we know your name first, sir?" a female voice asked out of nowhere. Egil's head swerved until he noticed a ginger-haired woman, older than the first girl by a few years, standing behind Van Helsing. His eyes narrowed hostilely at the newcomer as his aggravation spiked; so much for getting down to business, as he had planned.

_Then again, _his mind protested, _at least they're on their toes somewhat. I was beginning to question some of their level of competence._

"I suppose there's no harm in the request," he replied, his tone bored as he placidly folded his hands together. "My name is Egil Lars Swenhaugen, but you may call me Egil."

The ginger extended her hand, her brown eyes locked onto his stormy ones, almost as if she was trying to penetrate his cold eyes and stoic demeanor. "Lexa Goering. A pleasure to meet you."

"Egil, then," Van Helsing said, speaking to the mercenary for the first time. "Now, you seem to want to talk about something. What is it you wish to talk about? And, to answer your question, I am hunting Dracula, King of the Undead."

Egil had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. _Of course you are, all mighty Van Helsing. If you weren't, I'd have to have a little "discussion" with my sources._

"I possess some knowledge that might be of interest to you. It concerns Dracula…and his plans." He paused, making sure he had effectively ensnared the hunter's attention. "Intrigued at all, Van Helsing?"

"What's in it for you, telling us what you supposedly know?" Lexa cut in, leaning on Van Helsing's chair. "How do we know you're being honest with us?"

Van Helsing continued to observe Egil, his face just as unreadable as that of whom he was observing. It wasn't that he didn't trust Egil-it was merely that he was getting a strange feeling from the man.

_But he has information about Dracula…information that could end his reign,_ his mind reasoned. _Information that could get Catherine out of that damned castle before someone wises up to her crazy scheme!_

"Am I intrigued?" he asked slowly, rhetorically. "Yes, I'm intrigued. But I have to agree with Lexa-what's in it for you, revealing this information?"

Egil rested his icy glare on Lexa, making her shiver involuntarily. "If you are worried about me being an accomplice of Dracula, just mention my last him to him and he'll go into a raging hissy fit. The Swenhaugen family was never on good terms with the vampire king, and neither was he with us." He paused, and after a moment, a hint of a smirk curled his lips. "As for what I can gain by this…well, let's just wait and see about that, shall we?"

Lexa gave a small, rather cold laugh. "A little cocky, don't you think?"

"Wench, I've been cocky since the day I popped out of my mother's womb. You better get used to it."

"Well, then, I guess we shall determine what it is you want at a later date, now won't we?" Van Helsing cut in, lacing his fingers together. "But, in the meantime…what is this information of yours?"

The smirk left Egil's face, and he took on a more professional air once more. "From my resources, I managed to glean where Dracula and his mates are cached in." He paused, eyeing them, making sure they were paying attention. "They are currently residing in a castle near the Alps, inside the Eiger, a treacherous mountain in the Swiss region."

Van Helsing's eyebrows rose slightly. "The Alps? Huh…I would've thought-"

He stopped then, as if he'd thought better of what he was about to say. Egil wondered if he had been about to voice something that he shouldn't be saying; the mercenary opened his mouth to voice a caustic comment, but stopped short. A prickling, foreboding sensation made its way down his spine, radiating outwards until it washed over him completely. There was danger, it was close…and it was unnatural danger, too. Already steeling himself for a battle, he pulled out a revolver, cocking it for an impending fight.

"Something's coming," he muttered to Van Helsing, Lexa, and the as-yet unnamed girl. "Something unnatural…evil…Be on your guard, for the menace draws near."

Van Helsing's wolfish hazel eyes darted around the tavern at Egil's words, and he slipped a revolver from the holster at his waist. Minutes ticked by, and the group remained in tense silence, waiting for something to happen…

Two things happened at once: A shriek rang out upstairs, and the window near them shattered as something crashed through it. In a flash of pale skin, brunette hair, and gauzy, midnight-blue cloth, one of Dracula's brides landed on the table, fangs bared in a savage hiss. Her midnight-blue eyes had a reddish tinge to them, and yet, at the same time, they sparkled in what appeared to be admiration and delight as they landed on Van Helsing. He couldn't help but inwardly breathe a sigh of relief when he saw which bride it was he, Lexa, and Egil were facing.

Much to their luck, it the false bride, the one undercover for their own little band, at great personal risk: None other than Van Helsing's younger sister, Catherine Van Helsing.

"Hello, Gabriel," she hissed. Her voice was dripping with contempt and suppressed rage, but she winked surreptitiously at her brother. "I see our paths are fated to cross again…and hello to you, too, Lexa…"

It was then that she noticed Egil at the table with Van Helsing and Lexa. She turned to see him, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "And who the Devil are you-?"

She never received her answer, for suddenly, Dracula dropped from the ceiling, his eyes flashing a vivid, electric blue. He quickly relieved Van Helsing of his crossbow, watching in delight as the hunter, now deprived of his weapon of choice, retreated.

"Ah, Gabriel," he drawled, smiling darkly. "How good to see my brother-in-law again. You know…you're all being quite selfish, ruining our honeymoon with the kidnapping and manipulation. Catherine's been _very_ upset."

He untied his cloak, casting it aside with a bit more panache than usual. A mocking leer played out on his pale face as he pranced forward aggressively, and only widened as the hunter retreated once more. Dracula's fangs descended ominously, a mocking invitation, a sign of a challenge.

"What's wrong, Gabriel? Has your friend Lucien deserted you already?"

He stopped, listening to something from upstairs, though his eyes were still locked on Van Helsing. His words came in a loud, commanding tone. "Alyssa…do not touch her, she is not worthy pray. Go, take Catherine and Alex with you, to the Valerious residence. I have some unfinished business with Lucien." And then, his attention was back to Van Helsing once more; he stepped forward again, his foe retreating in return. "Are you going to keep running away? You've been _dying_ to see me, haven't you, Gabriel?"

Having seen Dracula come in, Catherine leapt gracefully from the table, leaving Egil behind and sauntering up to Dracula, putting an arm around his waist. She swallowed back the bile of revulsion rising in her throat, keeping her bride-of-Dracula-esque façade.

_Push those feelings deep, Catherine, _she scolded herself. _Push them deep. Can't blow your cover now…_

"Too true, my lord," she purred sycophantly. "He has ruined our reunion, what with taking Quinn and putting you and Alyssa out like that…"

Egil rolled his eyes in disdain. _Trust Dracula and his simpering brides to make a flamboyant entrance. Honestly, that demon hasn't changed at all._

At the same time, Egil cocked his revolver, aimed at Catherine, and fired. The bullet tore into her left arm, shattering the bone with a resounding crack and evoking a shriek of pain from her lips. The slight scent of burning flesh reached Egil's nostrils, as the silver reacted with the vampiric curse in Catherine's blood-thought, strangely enough, it wasn't as strong a scent as it usually was with a vampire. Either way, a grim smile found its way across Egil's face as the intoxicating thrill of adrenaline, brought on by the fact that there was a vampire before him simply waiting to be hunted, started to pump through his blood. He cocked his revolver, firing again and again, shooting a round of bullets at Catherine, relishing her screams as silver bullets tore into her flesh.

Behind those pained shrieks, Catherine's frustration was building. Finally, she sprang forward, hitting the mercenary head-on, taking him to the floor (and sitting on his chest to keep him pinned). Her sapphire eyes, swirling with a carmine color, blazed with anger.

"Fool!" she snarled irefully. "You'll pay for that! No one-I repeat NO ONE-dares to shoot Catherine Dragulia and gets away with it!"

And, dwelling only momentarily how bizarre "Catherine Dragulia" sounded in her ears, as opposed to the familiar old "Catherine Van Helsing", she proceeded to bear her fangs and slap Egil soundly across the face.

Egil felt the pain of her hand colliding with his face shoot up his jaw, spreading like fire. But, being no stranger to pain, he quickly severed all ties with agony, then proceeded to shove the enraged bride off of him with a brusque kick to her ribs. As she recovered from the kick and scrambled to her feet, Egil holstered his weapon and adopted a defensive, almost animalistic stance, much to Catherine's bemusement. His grin only grew wider.

"And no one, my dear, assails a Swenhaugen unscathed." He shifted his weight, resting now on the balls of his feet. "And that is a lesson many learn quite _painfully_."

He pounced for her, and as he did…he started to change. Muscles throughout his body stretched and shifted as his body took on a new, unusual shape. Both his fair skin and platinum hair darkened to a sable shade, and similar-colored fur sprouted to cover his body. Human hands and feet morphed into feline paws, while his face became more feline, with a sloping brow, feline snout with sharp, lethal canines, and gleaming yellow eyes with vertical pupils.

He had lunged as a human. He came down (missing Catherine by mere inches as she dived out of the way) as a sleek, swift black panther.

Catherine couldn't help but gawk momentarily as she dove to avoid being mauled by a panther. She couldn't believe it-he was a shapeshifter!

_Fascinating…_she thought to herself. _I mean…I've heard about them in Grandfather's diary, but I've never been this close to one…Although…he's going to be surprised by my next little…trick…_

"_That_ is a wonderful trick, Mr. Swenhaugen," she purred coolly, masking her curious surprise. "But I'm afraid you've rather underestimated me. A panther can hardly injure a normal vampire as it is, and guess what? I'm _not_ a normal vampire!"

The muscles of Catherine's back tensed and contracted, while a smirk curled over her rose-colored lips. With a slight tearing noise, her wings burst forth in all their gray-feathered glory, pushing out from the holes already ripped in the back of her dress.

"Won't _this_ be an interesting battle?" she asked coyly.

Egil flexed his powerful claws, growling his agreement. He was a bit surprised at the sudden appearance of Catherine's feathery wings; clearly, she was no ordinary bride of Dracula. _Hm, a fallen angel? First time I've witnessed one of those._

"Don't disappoint me," Egil commanded in a low, velvety growl, pausing a moment before pouncing at Catherine once more. She avoided his attack by jumping up and grabbing the ceiling beam, waiting until he had landed on all fours before dropping back down to the floor. Egil turned, his stance defensive; he was ready to fight again.

"Hmm…you're a pretty good fighter," she mused, shifting into a more defensive stance himself. "Mind telling me the name of my opponent? I should like to know, just so I can say I had the pleasure of fighting you-and defeating you, should I get that chance…"

_She's a plucky one, considering the other wenches Dracula usually chooses, _Egil thought to himself in regards to Catherine's saucy comment. His tail swished in amusement, his sleek, feline body poised and alert.

"Certainly. What harm is there?" He dipped his head forward, tantamount to a mock bow. "Egil Lars Swenhaugen is the name. Hunting and killing is the game. Pleased to meet you, Catherine, bride of Dracula."

"Egil, then," she said. "Glad to see that I have the fortune of battling a gentleman, unlike some people I know-" She shot Van Helsing the nastiest of glares, but, at the same time, the tiniest of grins. "And I am pleased to meet you too, Mr. Egil Swenhaugen."

_A gentleman, eh? How regaling. _"Tell that to your groom," Egil growled, circling with Catherine, muscles tense, his burning yellow gaze never leaving her defensively-positioned form. "He'll burst into a neurotic tantrum while cursing the Swenhaugen name."

"Will he now?" Catherine retorted, taking careful, measured steps backwards as she and the shapeshifter continued to circle. "And what is it you Swenhaugens have done to anger my master so?"

_We're equals in battle, _she realized as they kept circling. _The question is…who will move first?_

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Egil quipped, analyzing the fallen angel-vampire hybrid's every move as they stalked. "I'm certain the oh-so-grand count has an impeccable memory of us."

It was then that he saw it: The brief but conspicuous flare in her crimson-flecked azuline eyes, brought about by a mention of her connection to Dracula. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but Egil's keen eyes-as well as a knack for perceiving deception-picked up on it right away.

_Perhaps I can use this to my advantage later…_

"Well, after this little battle of ours is over, I shall ask him," Catherine retorted, as the two kept circling. "You know, Egil, we cannot continue to circle like this until Kingdom come. One of us has to move eventually…the only question is will you be the man and make a move first, or will I have to make the first move?"

"Chivalry is dead, Catherine, and has been for centuries. So do your worst, I'm a patient man."

Catherine sighed, sounding a little disappointed. "Maybe not so much a gentleman as I thought. Fine then. Since you've invited me to do my worst, I shall do my worst."

She lunged at him, commencing the battle. One step ahead of her, Egil sprang up, his massive paws regressing into human hands to grab the ceiling beam over his head. At the same time, his hind legs metamorphosed, becoming human once more and delivering a powerful kick to Catherine's face; she stumbled and fell from the impact. Egil's hands released the beam, and he metamorphosed as he fell through the air, landing as a panther.

_He's quick, _Catherine thought as she sprang to her feet, shifting her jaw back into place. _And a clever fiend, too, I'll give him that. But I'm not giving up that easily._

Repeating his move, Catherine jumped up and grabbed a ceiling beam, avoiding another attack from Egil. But she didn't jump over him, as would have been anticipated of her…she let go of the beam and landed on Egil's back, rolling him to the ground as she did. She settled herself on his underbelly, pinning him to the floor, a devilish smile curling her lips.

As he realized that she was just as shrewd as he was, the adrenaline pumped harder in his veins, further stimulating his animalistic senses. His panther form began to melt away, reshaping itself into that of a python, and then proceeding to constrict himself around Catherine, cutting off circulation. Sputtering, she clawed at his scaly hide with sharp nails, trying to force him to slacken his grip. Her struggling only convinced him to tighten his hold; he nuzzled his head against the nape of her neck in a pleased manner as she struggled fiercely.

And then…he began his death squeeze.


	3. Supernatural Combat

**Chapter Three: Supernatural Combat**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Van Helsing. End of story. **

After Egil had shifted into a python, he began crushing Catherine in his powerful death coil, no mercy intending to be granted. However, he was so intent on pulverizing her to death he failed to notice when the faux bride of Dracula slipped one of her daggers from the torn corset of hers, driving the honed blade into his scaly python flesh. She chuckled.

"You never said weapons were off-limits, now did you?" Catherine asked.

Her triumphant question ended up pulling the stoic shapeshifter away from his pain-staking concentration and, much to his silent chagrin, noticed a dagger in her hand in the corner of his eye. Thinking fast, Egil allowed a portion of his serpentine body to alter back to its original human shape so he could gain access to one of his pistols.

"No, I didn't," Egil grounded out as his fingers wrapping themselves around his chosen gun, "there are no rules as far as I'm concerned."

Drawing the pistol, he took aim and fired straight at her neck while Catherine's arm pivoted around and sank the dagger deep into his vulnerable flesh, inducing a crimson splotch in its wake.

The bullet shot forward, digging into the back of her neck, missing Catherine's spinal cord by inches but hurting like the Devil all the same. Lukewarm blood trickled from the wound, trickling its way down her pale spine. It was a strange sensation, to feel the blood dripping down like sweat. And it made her...hungry...

_Oh, God...I forgot...I'm half-vampire now. I have to feed occasionally...Don't lose focus, idiot! Strike him back! You have a revolver, do you not?_

Grabbing her own revolver from its holster, she pried Egil off of her–an effort which took a good four minutes, the bastard was clinging so tight–and fired a shot. The impact hit him towards the tail-a perfect leg shot. The bullet seared through Egil's skin and sped out the other end, rendering a nice, fine hole to be healed later on. The blonde shapeshifter gritted his teeth to assuage the excruciating pain erupted near his leg, coercing himself to shift back into his regular form.

_All right, have it your way, wench. Let's fight bullets with bullets._

Swifter than one could blink the supernal mercenary conjured up another gun in his free hand and bombarded his feminine foe with a shower of silver bullets. _Let's see how long you can endure _this_, Catherine. _

Pelted with a storm of silver bullets, Catherine leapt up into the rafters of the inn, hoping to dodge some of the bullets behind the wooden crossbeams. A few bullets tore into her arms, and one into her still-healing ankle.

"Hmmm...you know, the longer I fight you, the less gentlemanly you seem to become," Catherine shouted over the sounds of simultaneous guns going off. "I only shot you because you shot me first. And now here you are, barraging me with silver bullets. That won't work. I'm only half-vampire. But...seeing as you want to fight fire with fire, well, then..." She withdrew her other revolver and pointed it towards him. "Let's fight fire with fire!"

With that said, she gladly returned the bombardment with bullets of her own.

Deducing the second bombardment directed towards him, Egil immediately metamorphosed into a falcon to escape Catherine's salvo of cumbersome bullets. They wouldn't kill him but they sure could inflict enough damage to hinder his abilities or render him incapable for a brief time span.

Flying over her head, Egil landed right behind her, his covert tactic similar to what she had executed against him not too long ago. The bride must have sensed his presence for she whirled around, revolver in hand and was prepared to pull the trigger.

_I don't think so, wench! _

Arm like a rattlesnake, he lunged and disarmed her before the shot was discharged. Catherine hissed through her fangs as both of revolvers were knocked from her grasp. Though this fray was starting to grate her nerves...she couldn't deny that this battle was among one of the most fun battles she had ever been in.

However, he had forgotten about one thing...well, two, actually, both of which were tucked into the sides of her corset–her handcrafted blade-edged fans. Plan formulated in her mind, she whipped one out and drew it across Egil's chest, leaving a painful, yet shallow and non life-threatening gash.

"Didn't warn you about that, but you did say no rules..." Catherine told him, a playful grin on her pale features.

"Of course," he replied, cocking a complacent grin on his face that seemed oddly out of place for a situation such as this. Catherine answered with a full swing of her deadly fans and Egil blocked the assault with his hands that now became giant bear claws. The razor barely penetrated through the coarse, rough hide of those paws and he casually swatted her hands aside, leaving her open and ripe for an onset of his own. One paw swiped at her neck, dragging its claws past her collarbone and down to her chest. Egil's other paw shielded him from the fans and with a growl he hoisted her over himself and sent her sailing across the other side of the room. The relentless shapeshifter was already back in his panther state and racing towards Catherine by the time she crashed into the wall and was beginning to pick her battered, bruised self up from the rubble.

As Catherine pulled herself from the rubble of the wall she inspected the damage down to her. Four long, bleeding gashes marked her neck, collarbone, and chest. Rage coursed through as she witnessed these sanguinary wounds. That last attack hurt like hell, and in her eyes, she was making a fool of herself! _Or, rather, Egil is making a fool out of me..._

That was something she would not stand for, even if, on a technicality, they were on the same side.

Irony really does bite sometimes.

Egil came charging towards her, back in his panther form but she was ready and waiting. This time, Catherine planned not to strike with any weapons. Good old-fashioned brute force was needed to get her message across. While he came running, he pounced yet she tumbled out of the way at the last second. Then, she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, just like a mother cat does to her kittens.

"So long, kitty-cat!" Catherine snarled, spinning around a few times and proceeding to toss him across the room, into the wall.

_Ooooooh, looks like the wench is seething. _Even being hurled straight into a wall didn't damper Egil's sardonic thoughts.

Convulsively shaking the chunks of plaster and debris off his glossy onyx fur, Egil arose out of the crater Catherine and he made together and slowly but deliberately ambled over to her.

"Not bad, _Dame Englen_," Egil stated with the silky purr, "for a bride of Dracula."

He approached Catherine once more and Catherine started to circle, just in case he was planning another attack. "My, is that almost a compliment?" (She hadn't the slightest clue what the words '_dame englen' _meant, but refused to let it on.) "Well, if I may say so, you yourself are a decent fighter, Master Egil. No wonder my master chooses you to consider one of his greatest foes. He only chooses the most powerful to consider his greatest opponents..."

"I'm positively flattered," the disgruntled shapeshifter responded sarcastically, whiskers twitching haphazardly. "So how did the oversized bat entice you to his side? Whispering promises under the sheets of immortality and pleasure beyond mortal comprehension?"

"Not so much so, not that it's any of your business," the huntress extraordinaire told him coolly. "I tell you, take a good look at me. Clearly, I'm not a full-blooded vampire. What do you think I was before I was a vampire? Come on, you strike me as intelligent. I'm sure you can answer my question."

"Ah, a fallen angel first. Then the name _Dame Englen_ does suit you, _Savne_ Catherine." Egil replied monotonously, zero humor in his clipped words. "But the real question is _how_ you became one, _Savne_ Catherine. Does your initial transmogrification have something to do with…" Trailing off deliberately, he approached her furtively but halted the advancement at a yard's length away so she wouldn't be instigated to start assailing him again.

"…Gabriel Van Helsing?" he finished, letting the pieces fall where they may, mocking Catherine. He knew she wasn't likely to attack him if he was that far away.

Irked, Catherine placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. Inside, she was wondering how he knew...

"Is it the hunter you refer to?" the hybrid asked him. "Or, is it the Archangel within him you refer to?"

"What do you think, _Dame Englen_?" Already he was conceived that she didn't have an inkling what '_dame englen'_ meant in the English language.

_Heh, the ignorance must be killing her. _

"The angel, then," she told him. "The Archangel Gabriel may have had something to do with my original transmogrification. But I fail to see how that's of any consequence to you..."

Dimly she pondered on why did he keep calling her '_dame englen'_? _I have no idea what language it was in, but...when he guessed I was a fallen, he said that '_dame englen'_was a fitting title...It probably means "damned angel" or something like that. Bastard. Though...it is true..._

"Patience, _Savne_ Catherine. I shall indulge you." Pausing prior to Egil could even begin his explanation he yawned indiscreetly, just for the sake of tantalizing her.

"The fact the legendary Van Helsing is also the incarnation of the Archangel Gabriel is of no privy to creatures like me or nonhumans. His story, the history of the grand Van Helsings, has been recorded and narrated throughout the ages, a tale for every aspiring hunter to learn from. However, Gabriel Van Helsing wasn't the only character in that idealistic anecdote. He had a mother, a father, and…a sister." Egil finished without conviction, his piercing scrutiny leveled squarely on her when he enunciated 'sister.'

_Damn it. How the hell did he know? How had he learned all this? Wait...why was I getting so worked up? It wasn't exactly any consequence if he knew I was Gabriel's sister. After all, even a Van Helsing can have a change of heart. I could feed him the same lie I fed Dracula. It worked for the King of Vampires, why couldn't it work for one too-smart-for-his-own-good shapeshifter? _

Going with this food for thought as a battle plan, she refocused her attention back unto Egil.

"Did he now? Fascinating..."

Egil suppressed a regaled chuckle. He sensed that she was pretending, he could _feel_ the pretense, the subterfuge interlaced within her voice. _Go ahead, _Savne _Catherine, just try and deceive me. _

"Yes, he did. I didn't notice the resemblance at first, but I must say, you and Van Helsing look uncannily alike–physical features-wise."

_Wow...he really _is_too smart for his own good..._

"All right, so I bear some resemblance to Van Helsing," Catherine hissed. "My, aren't you observant? I still fail to see what consequence there is that I look like the legendary Van Helsing. Besides, think about it...while Van Helsing may be the great Archangel, I do believe the rest of his family was _mortal..._they would have died by now, if not by the sword, then by the passage of time. I happen to know that Mr. Van Helsing was born in the year 1500. That's nearly four hundred years old. No mortal has lived that long since the days of those biblical figures you exonerate, the ones who nearly lived for a thousand years..."

At her little speech, a big, throaty chuckle erupted from the shapeshifting hunter when he heard this. _She really is resolved to feign innocence on the matter and continues to dance around the facts that lay quite blatantly in front of us. _

"True, but I know of the notorious Van Helsing Massacre. The day when Randolph and Cordelia Van Helsing tragically lost their lives to a mob of deplorable curs and Catherine, their daughter, perished alongside of them, leaving Gabriel the sole survivor of his family." Egil grinned at her crookedly. "That is _one _version of the tale, _Dame Englen_."

Catherine gasped in mock surprise, while sarcastically replying, "Really? Well, Egil, thank you for telling me something I already knew! Now, you say there is more than one version, do you? Well, let's hear the other version!"

To Egil, she was far too regaling for her own good. _Really, did she realize what an entertainment she was to me? _

"Very well, _Dame Englen_. The other version, the one kept cached from humanity, tells that Catherine Van Helsing, in fact, _did not_ die on that foreboding night. Rather she was resurrected by her older brother, who was briefly possessed by the Archangel. He transformed the dying Catherine into a fallen angel which–surprise, surprise!–is what **you** are."

The aforementioned huntress smirked. Okay, so the game was up. But she figured she could go ahead and tell him that he was correct.

"My, my, aren't you a clever one, Mr. Swenhaugen?" Catherine purred. "You know what? I'm giving up the ghost. You caught me. I am Catherine Van Helsing..." The smirk then faded. "Or, rather, I was. That accursed name belongs to me no longer. Why would I continue to bear that name? I'm Catherine Dragulia now. And so it was written, and so it was done!"

Egil gazed unblinkingly at her, his mind digesting her ominous admission in. While others might have swallowed the sophistic fanfare and soaked up every word without protest, he wasn't fooled via her clever ploy for he could detect a lie a mile away.

"Beautifully done, _Dame Englen,_ but unfortunately, I don't believe you."

Now, Catherine was in a bit of trouble–or as she believed.

"Believe it," the brunette told him softly, moving to circle him again. He must've been reading the emotion in her eyes, so she mustered up enough anger to hopefully convince him, or, at the very least, confuse him. "I am no Van Helsing. Nor do I want to be. Not when all that being a Van Helsing will get me is verbal and physical abuse at the hands of my own older brother..."

The platinum blonde shapeshifter snorted incredulously at her latest canard. "_Okser_, _Savne_ Catherine. But don't worry, your secret is safe with me." With that said, Egil smirked and–much to his silent surprise and hers–winked cajolingly at Catherine, which in return repulsed her and provoked a snarl from her throat.

"I have no secret, you bastard," she snapped, sapphire eyes aflame. "I loathe the name Van Helsing. It means nothing-_nothing!_-to me now!" Strolling over to her brother Gabriel Van Helsing, she grabbed him, and slammed him to the ground, placing her foot on his chest. Inwardly, she reckoned he'd kill her for this later, however, for now, it was necessary to keep her cover. "Tell me...if I were lying, would I have done that? Or...would I do this..?"

To keep true to her words, Catherine knelt by Van Helsing's side, and then pulled on the collar of his shirt, exposing his throat. She flashed her fangs ominously as she drew closer to his throat.

Witnessing this event unfolding, Egil sprung into action. _All right, playtime's over. I pushed her too far. _

Snarling, Egil leapt on the fallen angel-vampire hybrid, hurtling her away from Van Helsing. She tumbled into a table and a set of chairs, scattering the wooden furniture in every which way feasible. "Take better care of your family next time!" Egil groused at Van Helsing, the renowned monster hunter, before engaging Catherine once more.

There were times when he wondered if he had to do everything himself…

Catherine stood up while throwing the chairs aside. She had not exactly been expecting Egil to come at her like that, though that did save her from having to bite Gabriel. _That is a welcome relief. He is still going to kill me afterwards for this, though..._

Cutting off her reverie, she leapt onto the table. "Oh, must we drag this battle on, Egil? We could fight to Kingdom come, but there is always the option of us attempting to be civil about this..."

Not amused, the said warrior succinctly replied, "Civil as in 'surrendering'? If that's the case, I'm afraid you're asking the wrong man." _Being civil isn't really in my nature anyway._

"Well, then," Catherine said, "There is one other way to end this battle..." She strolled to the edge of the table and crouched down, smirking at him. "I could always tear your throat out and we could call it a day..."

"Or," Egil offered, rapidly shifting into my human form once more and disappearing behind her with his supernatural speed, "I can simply knock you out." To prove his suggestion, Egil dealt a swift but nonlethal karate chop to her neck. Catherine, the sister of the mighty Van Helsing, promptly went limp as a ragdoll.

Blackness gathering gathered in Catherine's mind, legs giving out, and she collapsed onto the rough surface of the table.

As unconsciousness arrived to claim her, she hoped Dracula had enough brains to get her the hell out of here. After all, she still had to keep up the ruse for Dracula and Alyssa.

* * *

Translations: 

Dame Englen- Lady Angel (Norwegian)

Savne- Miss (Norwegian)

Okser- bullshit (Norwegian)


	4. First Encounters, Drunken and Otherwise

Chapter Four: First Encounters, Drunken and Otherwise

The sounds of wings disturbing air filled the night, and stars were blotted out briefly as Dracula and his brides sailed past in the midnight sky. Dracula clutched an unconscious Catherine in his arms, feeling tendrils of her hair brushing lightly against him as the wind sent it dancing. Not too long had passed before Catherine's eyes slowly opened, peering up at Dracula with something he couldn't place. Rather than question his now-awake bride, he simply smiled.

"At last, you are awake," he commented. "I didn't think a mortal could cast you off like that, but apparently, you still have much to learn."

He landed gracefully on a rooftop, with Catherine at his side and both Alyssa and Alex right behind him. His dark eyes took in the scene below, watching the small party that sat laughing and eating around a campfire.

"You say you are loyal to me? Now, you can prove it," he told Catherine with a black, wicked smile on his face. "I want the little girl, Lucien's little girl. And you shall get her for me. If you fail, I suppose I could consider you as one of them…"

Catherine faltered momentarily, her conscience waging war against her. By no means did she want to Lucien and Charlotte's little girl-that would only scare the little girl, not to mention leave Lucien and Charlotte thinking she was completely out of her mind.

_But I have to go along with it…_she realized. _It's all part of, as Dracula once said, the great game…_

"With pleasure, my lord," she forced herself to say. "Ah, a little girl. I always wanted a daughter…just never got around to finding someone to give me a little girl…"

She watched Lucien and Charlotte for a few more minutes, before unfurling her wings and diving towards the couple, soaring over the weak fire to startle them, then dropping before them. "Well, well, well…the lovebirds," she sneered. "So good to see you again, Lucien, Charlotte. You have something that my Master wants…the girl. Give her to me…and I promise no one gets hurt…"

Charlotte's delighted expression turned ashen. "S-Sorina? Why do you want her?"

A smile curled Catherine's lips. "My Master wants her. I think he wants a daughter…after all, our new son, Quinn, will need someone to keep him company…As a playmate and the like…"

"Catherine, you aren't like this! What has he done to you?"

"What has he done to me? He's taught me where I _really_ belong. I know now that I belong with him, and not with you and your _lover_ and my damnable brother!"

Beseechingly, Catherine reached out to Charlotte's mind, attempting to open a telepathic link. _Charlotte! Look, I know I seem to be…insane, corrupted, take your pick. But you remember my plan, right? I have to make him believe that I'm with him. Just let me take Sorina. I promise that no harm will come to her! I'll watch her like a hawk! But I have to make Dracula believe me…_

Charlotte shook her head, moving before the sleeping little girl. "No! No, I can't let you have her!"

Catherine snorted in disdain. "Oh, please. What are you going to do, Charlotte? Try and stop me? I'd love to see you try."

"If it comes to it, I will protect her. But you will not just walk away with her easily."

"Oh, I won't, will I? Well, I hate to say it, Charlotte, but…she's coming with me. And there's nothing you can do about it!"

_Forgive me, Charlotte…_she thought as she first feinted left, then ducked right, lunging for the child. She managed to take a hold of Sorina's arm, but that was all she grabbed, for Charlotte had thrown herself between Catherine and the sleeping girl.

"Catherine, no!"

"I must, Charlotte! My master commands the little girl! Besides…I've always wanted a daughter…" She smiled, flashing her fangs to a bewildered Charlotte. At the same time, she sent out another begging mental plea. _Charlotte, please! I don't want to hurt you. I promise that no harm will come to her. I'll guard her with my life…_

Just then, Lucien materialized between the two vampiresses. He had caught whispers of Catherine's fervent mental pleas, and reached out into Charlotte's mind. _She wishes Sorina no harm, this is yet another play on Dracula's part; go along with it, she shall not harm her._

"She, the bitch, has come back on her master's accord," he said cynically, only the smallest twinkle in his eye revealing his true intentions. "You cannot have her!"

A fight commenced between the two of them, though Lucien was clearly fighting to lose. It wasn't long before Catherine had him flat on his back, a sandaled foot on his throat, threatening to impale his throat with her heel. She reached over and lifted Sorina, cradling the girl so her head was resting on her shoulder.

"Such a beautiful little girl," she purred, stroking Sorina's hair. "Thanks ever so much for the new daughter. Fear not…I'll take good care of her!"

She took to the air, flying back to Dracula's side, stroking the girl's hair again and smiling at Dracula. "I have her. She's so adorable…she'll make a wonderful daughter, won't she?"

***

"So…what you're saying is you actually kidnapped a defenseless little girl?" Keiran asked, blinking in disbelief.

"Not just any defenseless little girl, but Sorina?" Aurelia added, glancing over her shoulder at the young woman she knew as Sorina.

Catherine's expression became remorseful, her eyes dropping so she was looking at her feet. "I did…it's not something I'm proud of, but I did…"

"_Dame Englen_, you mustn't beat yourself up," Egil said, his hand reaching out and gently twining with his wife's. "You were simply performing your so-called marital duties…"

"What happened next?" Kasper pried.

"Well…Dracula, the brides, Sorina, and I were all heading back to the castle…when I spotted a young, tow-headed girl down below…"

The four children perked up instantly, now quite eager. They all knew exactly who the girl was; none other than their elder cousin, Sigrid. Even Danica let her stoic demeanor slip for a moment. Any tale of the mischievous young shapeshifter had always enthralled her, particularly because Sigrid had vanished when she was six, and she was always likened to the impish young Swenhaugen…

"Naturally, I was pretty curious," Catherine said. "So…I went in for a closer look…"

***

Hungry, worn out, and feeling quite lonely, little Sigrid Swenhaugen continued her miserable trek across the lonely countryside, searching for her dear uncle, Egil. However, an involuntary shiver shot down her spine. She could sense someone from nearby, an unwanted presence watching her…

"Well, well. What do we have here? A wandering child. How utterly…fascinating."

Terror gripped Sigrid's young heart, but she willed herself to appear calm and composed, knowing full well the consequences of showing any fear at all. She calmly and slowly turned to face whoever was behind her. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that I'm surprised to see such a young girl walking around all by herself," Catherine responded in a voice cool and sweet as ice cream. "Are you lost? Or looking for someone?"

"I suppose you can say that," Sigrid responded carefully, in an innocent tone. Despite how harmless Catherine seemed to be, Sigrid could sense her aura…unnatural and arcane, nearly noxious. She fiddled with the strap of her satchel, feigning shyness. "But I'm kind of planning to surprise him, in a way."

"Oh, really? And who is it you wish to surprise?" Catherine asked, puzzled slightly by her sudden shyness. "I might know where this person is that you wish to surprise…"

After a moment of skeptical observation, Sigrid spoke, jutting her chin up in regal intrepidity: "Perhaps I'll tell you of who I seek, if, of course, I know your name first."

"My name?" Catherine asked innocently. "Well, since you've been so polite so far, I shall tell you. My name is Catherine. Catherine Dragulia, formerly Catherine Van Helsing. And what, dear child, is yours?"

_Dragulia…Van Helsing…where have I heard those two names before? _Sigrid wondered as she dipped into a cordial curtsey. "And I am Sigrid Mia Swenhaugen, _Savne_ Dragulia."

Sorina stirred in Catherine's arms, opening her eyes. Suddenly, she cried out and started to struggle against the hybrid's arms. "No! Sigrid, don't listen to her! She stole me from my parents! Let me go!"

Panic and confusion fluttered in Sigrid as she looked back and forth between the terrified Sorina and Catherine, who was trying to soothe her. "Stole you…from your parents?" She took a firm yet wary step backwards. "What's going on here?"

"There, there, Sorina…no need for tears," Catherine murmured gently, stroking Sorina's hair and pressing her face into her shoulder. As she rubbed the young girl's back, she turned her attention back to Sigrid, studying her appearance. After a moment, it hit her as a slap to the face would. She'd seen features like Sigrid's before, heard a name like Swenhaugen before. A face came to her mind, a handsome face, framed by flaxen hair yanked back into a ponytail, eyes like a storm cloud…

Egil Swenhaugen.

"Swenhaugen, you said your last name was?" Catherine asked. "Any relation to _Egil_ Swenhaugen, Sigrid?"

"You know my uncle?"

She gave a small smile. "I've met your uncle before. A peculiar fellow he is. Shapeshifter, too, isn't he? And a good fighter to boot."

"Yes, he is! He's been fighting since he was nineteen. That's the age my grandparents told me he ran away from home at."

"Really? Well, isn't that how it always is, Sigrid? We all have to fight. I've been fighting all my life, too…and I have to compliment your uncle because he's the first person to beat me in a no-holds-barred, yet pretty much fair, fight…"

"Yes, but Uncle Egil's been battling everyone. The clan…our enemies…the world…" She trailed off, consumed by the sorrow that had suddenly crept upon her. She could remember all his sacrifices, his pain and misery as he plowed his way through the world. His aloof demeanor-and his small smiles for her-masked his torment, his acid wit assuring everyone he was all right. _But I've always seen the torment in his eyes, the torment he hides and everyone mistakes for bitterness, or sarcasm._

Shaking her sorrow off, she adopted her pleasant demeanor once more. "How did you meet my uncle?"

Catherine quirked an eyebrow. "Well, Sigrid…you can say that your uncle and I had a very _interesting _introduction. Would you like to hear about it?"

Sigrid nodded, all her suspicions towards Catherine vanishing. "Uh-huh! I wanna hear!"

"All right," she began, sitting down on the ledge she'd been standing on. She balanced Sorina on her lap, rubbing the young girl's back to soothe her tears. "You see, I didn't purposefully run into your uncle. I had followed my Master to an inn, to fight my brother and his friends, my former companions, to get Quinn-my Master's new son. I happened to enter through a window and land in front of your uncle. Needless to say, he was a little…_startled_…"

Sigrid giggled, picturing her uncle's expression. "I bet he would be. You just popped out of nowhere!"

"Well, after my…grand entrance, and seeing who my master is, your uncle took it upon himself to start shooting at me, trying to make me retreat. A pity for your uncle it didn't work. It made us realize, however, that we were each other's match in battle…and it led us to fight some more…"

Sigrid listened raptly to the blow-by-blow account of the fight that Catherine gave. When she finished her story-looking quite displeased about having lost-a small smile fluttered across the young shapeshifter's face.

"That sounds just like him. He always enjoys a good fight," she said proudly. _Uncle Egil held his own against a being as powerful as Savne Catherine-he is a bit of a legend, no matter if no one else at home will say it._

"So I've noticed," Catherine remarked coolly, before both of them lapsed into silence. In the stillness, Catherine let her mind wander. _Would Dracula want Sigrid, like he wanted Quinn and Sorina?_

"_Tell that to your groom. He'll burst into a neurotic tantrum while cursing the Swenhaugen name."_

Egil's earlier words rang in her mind, and she frowned. _Probably not, seeing as she is a Swenhaugen._

"So tell me, Sigrid…why are you travelling alone to find your uncle? Surely, someone's told you of the dangers facing a young girl walking alone. Especially in these lands…"

"Oh, I realize that. It's just…I really wanted to help Uncle Egil! I miss him; he's the only one who completely understands me, plus, he'll be lonely!" she confessed, the words tumbling from her mouth.

Catherine nodded, sympathy filling her heart. She knew the feeling well; all the years of being parted from her only brother, her best friend, had left her feeling quite the same way. "I think I understand that, child. Then would you like me to help you find your dear uncle Egil?"

"Don't listen to her!" Sorina cried out, struggling in Catherine's arms. "She's the enemy!"

Catherine ran her fingers gently through Sorina's hair. "Shush…there's no need to yell, Sorina…"

"No! No! Don't touch me! Help!"

"Sorina…calm down, little one. I'm not going to hurt you…"

"No! You're bad! You're Dracula's bride! Let go of me!"

Catherine didn't argue back, only continued to stroke Sorina's hair, attempting to calm her, with no intention of letting her go. The girl kept struggling, knowing she needed to try something else. Taking a deep breath, she sank her teeth into the faux bride's wrist. Catherine yelped and rubbed her wrist, almost letting go of the young girl. "Sorina, that wasn't nice. And it kind of hurt, too!"

"I don't like being held!! Let me go!"

"I'm sorry, Sorina, but I can't do that. If I let you go, you'll run off. And I can't have you running off. You might get hurt."

"I don't care! Just let me go!"

Sigrid watched the exchange curiously; pages of texts of vampire lore fluttered in her mind when Sorina called Catherine a bride of Dracula. She knew that, if this accusation was true, she was in trouble-she knew full well the so-called crime her ancestors had committed against Dracula…

And she knew Dracula never let an injustice committed against him go with no retaliation, even upon the innocent.

So when Catherine's attention was sufficiently distracted, Sigrid gave into the eldest primal urge and ran like Hell.

***

"Where exactly did Sigrid run off to?" Kasper asked curiously, leaning forward slightly.

"To this day, I'm not sure," Catherine said, taking a sip from a goblet filled with dark red liquid-no one was sure if it was wine or blood.

"All we know is that Radovan Fidotov-" Egil motioned to a man with short, dark hair, dancing with a beaming blonde girl about Keiran's age. "-Brought her to the inn two days later."

Aurelia turned her gray-eyed scrutiny on her father. "What about you, Dad? What were you up to after Mum left?"

A strange sort of look came over Egil's face. "Some very…_interesting_ activities."

***

"Trouble, anyone?"

Both of Egil's eyebrows were raised in curiosity at the scene before him. The young woman who had greeted him at the door of the inn was hunched in a corner, frozen in apprehension and horror. A dark-haired young man stood over her, frozen, a gun in his hand, aimed at the girl. She pulled her legs closer to her chest, trying to preserve her decency, despite being stark naked. "Please…" she whispered. "Please…don't let him shoot me…I was only trying to protect Quinn and Miss Carmen…protect them from Dracula's brides…"

Egil turned to the young man pointing the pistol at her, waiting for him to speak in his own defense. After a minute passed in silence, it became clear to him that the young man was somewhere off in his own world. Knowing the dangers of a mentally shocked man possessing a gun, he brought his arm down on the man's hand, disarming him and catching the firearm before it clattered to the floor. The unarmed man looked up at Egil, mild rage in his eyes.

"You are distraught. You are not fit to be wielding a gun at the moment," Egil explained crisply, dropping the firearm into a pocket of his trench coat. "You shall get your gun back when I credit that you're ready for it."

Meanwhile, Van Helsing had moved to help the girl, draping a blanket over her shoulders to preserve her decency. "Nickelia…Nickelia, calm down. We're not going to hurt you…" he told her soothingly, before glancing over at Egil. "_Right?_"

Egil nodded, his eyes never leaving the young man. _I really should get the names of these people, before I'm forced to resort to nicknames_, he mused to himself. _This one over here is well on his way to earning the cognomen Sergeant Sulky if he keeps this brooding up._

"We better regroup, Van Helsing," he stated off-handedly as the monster hunter helped the girl he called Nickelia to her feet. "Count Dracula and his brides came here for a reason, and I would like to know what that reason is."

The ginger he'd encountered earlier, Lexa, stepped in front of him, clearly not intimidated by the height difference between them. "No. What we need, _Swenhausen_, is to help out Nickelia since you so eagerly traumatized her."

"No…" Nickelia choked her, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. "He…d-didn't do a-anything…I-I'll be okay…I p-promise…"

"Nickelia, you just had the scare of your life, and on top of it, _he_ comes barging into your room while you're…well, you need time to rest and get better," Lexa insisted, gesturing towards Egil as she spoke. In response, Nickelia merely nodded, pulling the blanket tighter over her quivering frame.

Egil shook his head, bored by the conversation. "While you two are at it, you might also want to take care of him." He jabbed his thumb at the man he'd disarmed. "And oh, you're welcome for me saving you from getting shot by a mentally perturbed man."

Nickelia looked back at Egil tentatively. "T-Thank you…" she stammered as Lexa led her back to her room. He waved his hand, dismissing her timid words.

"Think nothing of it," was his brisk answer as he started off down the hallway. Footsteps echoed behind him, signifying someone-probably Lexa-was following him.

"You've got a lot of nerve, Sparky," she said, stopping, her hands on her hips, eager to tell him off. Her eyes narrowed when she got no response from him. "Yes, the ginger is talking to you! And yes, the ginger expects you to reply!"

Egil eyed her disdainfully for a moment, before leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. "Is the ginger always this aggravating?" _I'm going to get another little enraged outburst from this harridan, aren't I?_

_So he expects an outburst, huh? _Lexa thought to herself, catching whispers of Egil's thoughts. _Well, too bad for him. _"The ginger tries her best. Now, as I said, _sir_, you have a hell of a nerve."

An epiphany came to the shapeshifter at her words. "You can read minds, can't you, Ginger?" _Like what you're doing right now?_

"You're so smart, Tiny," she said, a disdainful smile plastered to her face from his thoughts. "It's a genetic thing. Like ginger hair."

He exhaled sharply, finding the conversation distasteful. "Did you have something to say to me, or are you going to stand there like a _tulling_ and harass me mentally and verbally?"

_That lummox has the nerve to call me an idiot! Ooh, he's in for it… _"In fact, I did have something to say to you. More like a question, but humor the ginger, please. Who do you think you are, barging in here and ordering us around? Last I checked, Van Helsing was in charge. Not…whatever your name is."

"Be as that may, however, I am the only one who fully knows exactly where Dracula and his little pets are holed up in, and to get to them, you need me. A real tragedy, Ginger, but that's life."

Lexa pursed her lips. "The ginger has a name," she snapped spitefully. "And she would it very much if you used it."

Egil opened his eyes, peering drolly at the ginger-haired spitfire before him. "If Ginger wants me to refer to her by her proper name, then she's going to have to tell me the name. After all, unlike her, I'm not a telepath."

"It's Lexa. Lexa Goering Liakov." She smiled brightly to him, a possibly dangerous sign. "And you would do well to remember it."

He grunted noncommittally, nodding stiffly. "All right, _Savne_ Liakov. Consider it done."

With a sharp click of his boots, Egil whirled around, leaving the hallway by ways of heading down the stairs, towards the bar for a drink. After a moment of consideration, Lexa followed after, sitting one seat down from the Norwegian mercenary, partially to keep an eye on him, partially because she herself could stand for a drink. No more than a minute later, Van Helsing joined them, slipping into the empty seat between the feisty ginger and the stoic blonde.

"Hey, Lexa," he started softly. "How's Nickelia doing? Is she still upset?"

Lexa took a swig of whiskey. "I don't know. I suppose she's okay. I think Andreas went to check on her."

"All right, then, I'll go check on her later. For now…" He turned to the bartender, pointing to Lexa's glass. "I'll have what she's having."

She lifted her glass in acknowledgment. "S'good stuff."

The legendary hunter accepted his glass from the barkeep and took a sip, a mildly impressed look on his face. "You're right…it's good stuff."

"This place always did have great drink," Lexa commented as Van Helsing took another swig from his glass.

"I'll agree to that," he said, pushing his empty glass forward. It was refilled in seconds.

"Bottoms up," Lexa toasted.

"Hey, barkeep, pass me absinthe!" a young, red-headed man-Cedric Dracula, first son to none other than Count Dracula himself-called loudly.

"I'll have some vodka," a young, dark-haired woman-Satine St. Gerard, or St. Satine, as she was sometimes known-requested quietly.

"Cristall Vodka," Egil requested, ignoring the mindless chatter around him. The weathered bartender quickly passed him a small shot glass, and he eagerly downed the shot, relishing the taste of vodka, subtly fused with chocolate and vanilla, as it trickled down his throat. The liquor flowed through his body, warming his blood in the way only alcohol could; he requested another.

"Give me another until I can actually feel nothing," Cedric called, pushing yet another empty glass of absinthe-his fifth thus far-forward. Van Helsing shot a curious glance at him.

"Cedric…out of curiosity, how many shots of absinthe would it take to get you drunk? I think I probably would have been drunk and seeing a dancing green faerie if I'd drank as much absinthe as you'd drunk by now."

Egil spared a brief glance at the scarlet-haired vampire, before turning away and polishing off a third glass of vodka.

_Russians sure know how to make a great alcoholic drink._ He peered into his empty shot glass disdainfully, before passing it back to the barkeep. "I believe I am ready to try some apricot brandy."

Within minutes, the barkeep placed a full shot glass of the clear, transparent beverage in front of him. "Ah, time to taste the fire."

He tilted his head back, throwing back the potent drink, feeling it burn pleasantly all the way down to his gut. _Let's see how many of these I can handle before I grow bored of them…_

Lexa glanced down the bar, seeing him with the apricot brandy. "Ooh-I'll have one of those…"

Van Helsing also glanced his way. "What, may I ask, is that?"

The blonde mercenary slowly turned his head to face the dark-haired hunter. "Apricot brandy," he replied dully, his forefinger tracing the glass's rim. "One of the finest alcohols located in Budapest."

"Damn straight it is. This is…is good stuff," Lexa said, her words sliding into each other, her mind spinning from the potent brandy. Egil glanced to her, inwardly shaking his head in semi-amusement.

"I believe you've had enough, _Savne_ Liakov. This brandy is quite potent, as you can tell. Any more of this and I think you'll black out."

She waved her hand, waving away his subtle concerns before taking another sip. "What're you talking about? I'm ffffine. I can hold my liquor like it had handles."

Egil cocked an eyebrow. "And if you pass out, don't come complaining to me about a hangover the next day."

Lexa lifted a finger to retort, but before any words escaped her, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed forward, passing out, her fiery hair fanning out on the roughly-hewn bar like a ginger halo. A sigh of aggravation escaped the blonde mercenary. _And I told her so…_

"Someone better take her back up to her room before she starts vomiting all over the place," he mused aloud, taking another swig of apricot brandy. However, no one responded to his words; Van Helsing seemed a bit preoccupied with trying to retrieve his battered fedora, which Satine was making levitate at the present, and Cedric just wasn't paying attention. _Must be the alcohol muddling their senses_, Egil thought to himself, setting his glass down and scooping Lexa up, muttering vile curses in Norwegian. Still muttering, he started up the stairs, looking for Lexa's room.

He hadn't been upstairs for long when a door opened. A young man with shoulder-length brown hair emerged, eyeing Egil. "Excuse me, but what are you doing with my wife?"

"What do you think?" he asked caustically, shifting Lexa slightly in his arms. "Savne Liakov, you wife, merely had more drinks than she could handle. When no one else bothered to assist, I decided to take the liberty of bringing her to her room. Now, since you are her husband, I'll leave that task up to you. You would do the job much more sufficiently than I would."

With that said, he placed Lexa's unconscious form into the waiting arms of Andreas, her concerned husband, bid him adieu and left to return to the tavern with the others.


End file.
